Daughter of Time
by Elfin Maid
Summary: Forgotten, forsaken, and alone, Marithyel has no hope. She is buried beneath the ground, deep within a prison. Her family and friends-gone. Her people, vanished. She is the only one left. She is royalty, yet all her life people have ignored her. Time alone has protected her, but this time, it may not be enough. Eventual Thranduil/OC.
1. Remembering

**This is my most recent story, and I have no idea how far it will go. I may stop after a few chapters, but if I get good reviews, will probably try and get to at least ten chapters. The land of Casylien, and the Waiona, are my creations, but the Hobbit it not- credit goes to J. R. Tolkien!**

**Thanks for reading, and please review! Just nicely :) I love thoughts, ideas, opinions, and critiques!**

* * *

The darkness was my home. I was used to it now, after so many years of waiting. There was no escaping it, in these dungeons. It was like trying to escape my captors. I am immortal, as all my kind are, but none have ever plunged so deep in disgrace.

I was the first.

I hope I will be the last.

* * *

My story is a long one. Long, long ago, I was known by the name of Marithyel. Now, I am called only prisoner. I am royalty, but have been forgotten, my memory buried with my mother. I am disgraced, forgotten, hated. The ones who knew me best have deserted me, and now I have only myself to turn to.

Many died trying to protect me.

Many will die when they find me.

I can feel them coming. They are powerful beyond belief, but yet they are shunned by my people. They have long been viewed as weaklings. I am one of them, and it was my greatest secret.

I am the lost princess of Casylien, home of the Waiona. I have long been thought dead by my other people, the Wood-elves of the Greenwood. For I am royalty among them as well.

My mother was an elf, sister to the Queen of the Greenwood, and my father the King of Casylien. My blood is pure, and my fate was decided long ago. My mother deserted me, and went back to her homeland, to live with the elves, leaving me with my father.

She was like me, in many ways. She was always in her sister's shadow, always one step behind.

I have a sister too, and she betrayed me. She is the reason why I am here, buried deep beneath the ground, in the always-present darkness. When my father sent for me, I was told that when he stepped down from the thrown, I would replace him as ruler. My sister, three years older, was furious. As my elder, she believed that she was the rightful ruler, and that she was first in line for the thrown.

My father argued with her saying that he wanted me, his second child, with royal blood on both sides, to be the new ruler.

He underestimated my sister's growing wrath.

She murdered him.

My father, who had always been the one who cared for me, was gone. My sister stepped up to the thrown, lifted the crown, and set it on her head without ceremony or guilt.

And then she did the unthinkable.

She banished me, her sister, who our father wished to be ruler, to the Greenwood. I was never to return.

As my mother still lived in the Greenwood, I was accepted into them. She took me into her arms and cared for me, and I lied about who I was.

I lied.

I now know that this was what ruined me. Oropher, the Elvenking, newly crowned, found out. When his wife, my mother's sister, died, mother told him all. She told him that she was married in secret to the King of a lost civilization, and that I-her daughter-had powers beyond any elf's.

Furious, he banished me. I never knew what happened to my mother, until I found bodies strewn across a small meadow one day while on a walk. And-to my horror-one was my mother's.

That is when they found me.

Orcs, dozens of them, the ones who had killed my mother in cold blood. Not that they have ever shown any mercy.

They took me, took me away. I had no hope; I was desolate, beyond grief. Everything that I had ever loved was gone.

I have spent the last hundred years waiting. Waiting, in this darkness, to hear a voice again, to hear footsteps, to hear a laugh. Do they still hold any memory of me? Who rules on the thrown now? Oropher, or his son?

If I ever found my way out of this place, would I still be welcome there, if Oropher was gone?

My sister-what became of her? Did she, too, die, like my other kinsfolk? Or was she spared? I shared nothing but a blood tie with her, yet I feel sadness at her memory. What pushed her to do what she did? Or did she not mean to?

Would I end up like her, void of all feelings, hating everything around me?

I still had my memories, and with each day I spend here, I remember them more clearly. Father's voice, my mother's face. The prince's laugh, the King's scowl.

My memories, and my questions, were all I had left, now.

And they haunted me.

* * *

My powers were growing strong enough to rival any of my people, save my father. He said that was because of the royal blood on both sides.

My sister said it came from anger, mother said it was from my father.

I disagreed with all of them.

I said it was given to me by fate, and that one day I would become master over my power. I had some of the most unusual gifts ever seen in my people, and it showed in how they treated me.

Like my mother, I was skilled with a bow. Like my father, I had the ability to go into the trance-like state of Mlorien, or fighter. While I was in that state, everything else was gone. I felt-heard-saw nothing but what I was fighting, and that made me deadly. Only removing the sword from my hands would stop me.

I can see in the dark. That is why, after all these years, I am not yet blind.

Myself, I think that my biggest gift is my connection with animals. They are what saved me, in my exile, and those who have comforted me my whole life.

When, I ask myself, when will I have my chance? After so many years, will it all be for naught? My planning, my escape routes?

When?


	2. Freedom

**Chapter two! R&R please!**

* * *

Footsteps echoed on the cold stone floor, and I sat up straight. Who was coming?

Seconds later, the door creaked open, and three Orcs appeared. Their foul, sour stench filled the room, making me a bit queasy.

"She-elf, come with us," one of them growled, and then barked an order in the Black speech to the other two. I have been here long enough to pick up some of their language, and the harsh words grated on my ears.

They jerked me up, and sliced my bonds; cold stone scratching my wrists and feet. Half-dragging me away, I vaguely wondered why I was not bound to them. A small part of my mind was alert, and it was singing loudly. _I'm going free_!

Eventually, we reached a large area. There were perhaps a dozen more Orcs waiting there, along with the big one who had captured me in the first place.

There were Wargs ready and waiting, slaver dripping from their jaws. One by one, they mounted. I was thrown up behind the big one. "Where are you taking me?" I cried.

They did not answer.

I tried again, this time trying to piece together some Black speech, to make them understand. "Where are you taking me?"

The Warg stopped abruptly.

"How do you speak our language?" the big one howled, causing his Warg to snap and growl. "She-elf speaks our language!" he roared to the others.

Startled at the response I had received, I fell silent.

And, to my surprise, they answered my question!

"Take to leader," the big one growled in the Black speech.

_Leader_?

* * *

We were outside. It was heaven to feel a breeze on my face again, even if the Orc's foul odor continuously assaulted my nose. The Wargs were racing along, and my mind was spinning, desperately trying to find a way to escape.

I looked down, biting my lip and tasting dirt.

And there was a sword! Stuck in the Orc's belt, there was a sword, clearly not of their make. It was far to smooth and shiny, and there were engravings on the parts I could see.

Wait.

_That was my sword_! My sword, from when they first captured me!

Fools, I thought, grinning for the first time in years. Fools, to leave me access to my own blade!

As we crested a ridge, the Wargs roughly stopped, and I took my chances. After all, there was nothing for me to loose. I would either spend my life as a prisoner, or I would die free.

Quickly, smoothly, I jerked the sword from the Orc's belt. I had not used a weapon for decades, but I still remembered how. And as I held my old sword in my hands, my power awoke.

Everything after that was a blur. But when I finally unclenched my hands, panting, there were no more Orcs or Wargs to bother me. I was free.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, _I was free_!

I wiped the blade clean, the world spinning slightly as I staggered. I was exhausted, and badly malnourished. A few more years, and I would have been dead. No doubt they had finally given up on starving me to death, and had decided to do away with me some other way.

The Waiona, oddly enough, can go into a sort of hibernation, at will. I had never learned to do so, and now, with my mind clearer then it ever had been before, I realized that I had done just that. It would have been the only thing to keep me alive.

A chill breeze drifted across the ridge. I shivered, my thin and threadbare clothing hardly enough to keep me warm.

I had to make my way to the Greenwood. It was my only option.

* * *

I spent the night in a cave, bundled up against tree boughs. The fresh, piney smell comforted me, and reminded me of my homeland.

As the sun rose high in the sky, I forced myself to wake. I had to find food. I could not function without food.

I made my way into the woods, thinking of the possible options I could use. The only one I came up with was finding a rabbit, bird, or some other type of meat source, and befriending it.

And then kill it.

The thought made me sick in my stomach, but at this point, I was willing to do almost anything.

* * *

Three hours later, I had been successful. I had two good-sized rabbits, and wood for making a fire. Dare I make a fire?

Yes, I decided. It would do no good to get sick.

I skinned and gutted the rabbits, the smell of fresh meat making my mouth water. I washed my hands in the near-by stream, and put them on a spigot, ready to be roasted.

Now for the fire.

Clumsily, I managed to spark a flame, and within a few minutes there was a fire roaring. I waited for the flames to die down a bit before putting the rabbits on, and waited anxiously for what seemed like an eternity. My mouth was watering almost painfully, and I doubted whether I could wait much longer.

Finally, they were done. I ripped them from the spigot, heedless to the mild burns I was receiving, and devoured them. I did not notice the pain on my tongue and hands until much later, but the damage had been done.

Full, I put out the fire and tried to get my bearings. I had to be close to the Greenwood. I couldn't hike across the country, looking for my mother's people.

That left me with two choices:

One, wait for _them_ to find _me_.  
Or two, try and find them.

I decided on number two.


	3. Battle

**Chapter three! Updates should be coming more regularly now! R&R, please!**

* * *

For three weeks I traveled, the bite of autumn chasing me towards my kin. If winter came, and I was still homeless, then all was lost. I needed shelter, and nourishment.

Two weeks into the journey, I started noticing changes, subtle ones. It grew slightly warmer, and there was more life. I started wishing that I could stay in one spot for longer, and watch the forest grow and change.

But I moved on. My many years in captivity had hurt me, and although I could always rely on myself in a fight, I did not know if my legs could stand traveling for many more days.

Compared to my old self, I was weak. Very weak.

Perhaps fate guided me. I do not know. What I do know is that I was very lucky.

* * *

I was nearing my old home, I could feel it. Something was tingling beneath my skin, anticipation. I needed to find the entrance to their kingdom. Or I could cause a disturbance in the wood, and make them come to me.

If Oropher was still King, then I was likely to be pushed away again. But if his son was now ruling, then I had a good chance of staying.

Two days after my three week mark, I was tramping along, trying to find some way to enter the kingdom. It was not going very well. Thirty minutes later, I was still walking, and still had no success.

I turned to go back home, and then a sharp jolt awoke me to the fact that there were other things that roamed the Greenwood.

Something crashed in the bushes behind me. I whirled, hand on my sword. If it came to a fight, all I could do is hope that my legs would not give way.

Instead, it was an ally. A huge, graceful elk was cantering towards me, chocolate coat covered in sweat and eyes panicked. It tossed its head, bawling, then skidded to a stop before me.

I relaxed.

And then at least a five spiders came barreling out after it, fangs bared and huge hairy legs working desperately to reach the huge animal.

I drew my sword, staggering backward, and the elk plunged desperately away, crashing through the undergrowth.

It didn't make it. The huge, flat antlers were to big to go through the small clearings in this dense, healthy wood. The spiders grew closer, and I pushed myself off the tree trunk I had fallen against.

The elk was the Elvenking's, and saving it might be my way back into their kingdom.

My blade was glittering, and something welled up inside me. Resignation? Was this to be my lot, always fighting, always on the run? My power was a burden and a blessing, and it was times like this that I both loved and hated it.

I pushed forward, cutting the undergrowth that blocked my way. A spider jumped, fangs bared, and I automatically cut it down.

My head was spinning. I could hardly see. All I knew was weariness, and pain, pain so bad that I wanted to fall away into nothingness. My gift would not let me stop fighting, but I wanted to, oh, I wanted to with all my heart.

My legs were screaming for me to stop, to rest, to wait. I couldn't.

_Stop, stop, stop..._

_No! Keep going!_

Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed it down, arms and legs jumping to do as my power ordered.

_Stop, stop, please stop..._

Lights were twinkling on the edge of my vision now, and I prayed that they were going to release me form this torture. I could not stand it much longer.

My legs gave way, and I wished for death-anything to stop this.

And all of a sudden hands were on my arms, taking my sword, holding me down. I heard the throaty cries of the elk, and then blackness overcame the blurriness in my eyes and I knew no more.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, everything had changed. I was in different clothing, my sword was gone, and I was somewhere else.

Suddenly, I remembered, and shot up straight in the soft bed, half choking on the words I had been about to say.

I coughed, wheezing slightly. "Where am I?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone rise, and then they moved towards me. As they moved into my range of vision, I could see that it was a tall, stately elven lady with long black tresses and gray eyes.

"You are in the kingdom of the elves," she said, voice surprisingly strong.

Having got my breath back, I asked another question. "Why?"

"You were found badly injured on our borders, quite likely from trying to defend the Elvenking's great elk. You will receive great honors." She moved gracefully about the small chamber, drawing water and setting a pitcher by my bed. "Are you thirsty?"

"Yes," I said. She handed me a cup, and I drank, sighing with relief as I set it down.

"You need to brush and trim your hair," she said. It was a statement, not a question.

I nodded.

She picked up a basin, full of water, and a comb. My hair was something of a nuisance, so thick and heavy that I was constantly trimming it down. While I was held prisoner, though, it had grown longer than it ever had before, now reaching almost to my ankles. If I tipped my head back it would brush the ground.

She moved toward me, picking up the long curtain and moving it into the bowl. I sat up. She quickly and efficiently washed my hair, removing decades of dirt and filth from it. She had to change the water often, but when she was done I felt surprisingly light.

"Dry it," she said, and picked up a cloth.

I moved my right hand towards it, and winced as pain shot up through my arm into my collar bone. I used my left hand instead.

After about thirty minutes of watching my clumsy attempts, she finished for me, much to my relief. I was weary to the bone.

As soon as she had finished, she started combing it through with different oils and such. My scalp was sore when she had finished, but all of my hair was neatly plaited into one long braid and wound around my head.

"You have beautiful hair," she said.

"Thank you," I answered, blushing slightly. It had been longer then I could remember since someone had complemented me. My hair was an unusual shade of gold, with light cinnamon streaks that appeared brown in the right light.

She turned to leave, with the parting words of, "The Elvenking will see you soon."

Tingles ran through me. Would I find a new life, or once again be tossed out?


	4. Home

**Folks, I have some bad news for readers of this story: I will not be updating very often, due to the fact that I want to go full steam ahead on So Be It. Sorry! :( When I get further along on SBI, I'll probably start focusing more on this one again.**

**R&R, please! Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Three days later, I was ordered to appear before the Elvenking. The elven lady who had first attended me brought the order, and helped me dress.

"You will need to make a good first impression," she insisted, ignoring my protests.

We had become something like friends in the past few days, despite our differences. Her name was Syanna, and it was pronounced SEE-na. It had taken me quite a bit of time to learn how to say it right.

Syanna, too, had problems with saying my name. At first, she called me Mithril, then Mariyal. No, I would say, it's Marithyel. She would shake her head in mild confusion, saying, "It is not a elvish name."

She was right. My name was in my mother tongue, in the language of my people, the Waiona of Casylien. The words rolled off my tongue easily, like the Elvish language. My mother had taught me elvish. My father had fought with her often over that; as he was teaching me dwarfish as well as my Casylien words.

I still knew dwarfish. It was not easy for me, though. I had to search for words and fight to keep my pronunciations right.

"You should wear this," Syanna said, breaking through my dreamlike state. She held up a dress of the deepest green, with a underskirt of white. It had a low-set, square shaped neckline, bell sleeves, and a full skirt.

I smiled, amazed by the fact that she had picked such a dress out of the hundreds available to her. "Very well."

I slid into the dress, and then drew in my breath so that she could lace the back up.

"You look lovely, Marithyel," she murmured.

And despite how much I wanted to deny it, she was right. I had never paid much attention to my appearance, but no one could say that the girl-no, woman-staring out of the mirror wasn't beautiful.

"Thank you," I said.

"Now, what will we do with your hair?" she asked me.

I shrugged, wincing as my sore shoulder tightened. "I don't know. Why don't we pull it back and leave the rest loose?" Like the elves, my people often used braids and twists to tie our hair, but I had never been a fan of it. I often left it loose, or pulled it back in one big braid.

Syanna brushed it out over my shoulders, and I flinched again as the brush scraped my skin. "What jewels should you wear?" she asked.

"Syanna, I don't have jewels. I'm a former outcast."

"We will remedy that, then," she said, and moved to the other side of the room. She lifted a small oak box, and placed it on the dressing table. "These were your mothers, I believe," she said softly.

I drew in my breath sharply as she opened the lid, and a beautiful array of jewelry greeted my eyes.

I picked one up, ignoring the pain shooting through my shoulder, and traced a small symbol at the back. "N.L.," I whispered. "My mother's initials."

Tears filled my eyes suddenly, and I fought them back, turning to Syanna.

"You have given me something most precious," I said. "I can not thank you enough."

"I understand what you are feeling," she said softly. "You have my friendship and my sympathy."

People said that the Greenwood elves were cautious, and do not bestow trust easily. I have found that it is true, to a point. Some are more cautious than others. Syanna, for example, took her time to get to know me. I did the same for her. But I have never met one who is so cautious that they refuse to trust anyone.

I fingered a necklace made of green gem, set in silver, and then searched for a head piece. My mother had had one that was absolutely beautiful, crafted of silver twisted and braided into a elegant look.

I found it at the very bottom. "I'll wear this," I said.

Syanna smiled. "Then go and see the Elvenking."

* * *

"What is your name, maiden?" Oropher asked me.

I raised my chin. "I am Marithyel."

His face changed from bored to furious. "Marithyel, daughter of Narinyaa?" he hissed.

"That is correct my lord."

I was lost. I could see it in the lines in his face, the way he shaped his words. I was once again going to be an exile.

I looked around. Before, I had focused all my attention on the Elvenking. Now, I surveyed the chamber and who was in it.

And there, standing behind his father, was Thranduil.

My eyes met his, and I knew that he did not recognize me. My name meant nothing to him. Even after our friendship in my younger years, he had forgotten me. But I had not forgotten him.

I nodded, carefully, to him, and turned back to his father.

"My lord, I was not intending to enter your kingdom. You banished me long ago. Your elk was roaming the woods, and I found it being chased by spiders. What was I to do?" Ah, well. I did not want to lie, but I _definitely_ did not want to be tossed out again.

He paused, contemplating.

I continued. "Your people have long been strong, and are known for being just. My people have been destroyed, because of their weakness. Would you turn away from me again, and give me to the wild? That would be unthinkable for my people, and as Elvenking I would expect better than that."

Oops. I had not meant for those last words to leave my mouth.

Instead of a negative effect, however, they seemed to tip the scales in my favor.

"You are right, maiden. It would not be just to leave you homeless and defenseless."

Slowly, I watched as Thranduil's face lit up. His entire bearing changed. He had placed my face, and had remembered my name.

"My lord, you may remember that when I was younger I had certain...abilities. They are still part of me. However, I have learnt to control them in recent years."

Right, I thought. Those abilities are why I'm here. They broke me.

His face changed again, and now I saw-fear? His mouth grew taut, and his eyes narrowed. He turned to his son. "Leave the room." Thranduil did so, and Oropher turned back to me. "You say that you have learnt to control them. Tell me, then, how you expect me to place trust in you when you could destroy me with a single sword in our hand?"

I placed a hand on my forehead. "It is not like that, my lord. I have the gift only when I am endangered, and even then it is limited."

"I see." He scowled. "How did you get injured?"

Uh-oh. "I...made a mistake." That would have to suffice. A half-truth.

"What other abilities do you posses?"

"I can see in the dark, my lord. And when I go without nourishment for long periods of time, my body shuts down partially."

"And are there any catches?"

"None but one," I admitted. "If I fight to long, or too hard, than I break. And I can be very seriously injured by that."

He sighed, torn. Minutes passed. Finally, he game me his answer. "Very well, maiden. I will give you the right to stay here, on the condition that you _do not_ cause trouble!"

I bowed my head. "Thank you, my lord."

We'll see how long being good lasts. Probably about as long as my arm is injured.


	5. Memory

**New chapter! Yay! R&R, please!**

* * *

Thranduil fell into step beside me as I left the Elvenking's presence.

"Marithyel, is it really you?" he asked me.

I snorted. "Yes, it's really me, princeling. I'm surprised you didn't recognize me."

He shrugged. "You have changed, Marithyel. When you left, you were still a girl. Now, you are a woman."

I wanted to deny it. but I couldn't, because he was right. Despite the many years without food, cold and alone in the dark, my frame had filled in well. I no longer looked like a child.

"The years have been good to me," I said softly.

"We have both changed," Thranduil agreed.

"_You've_ changed? I see nothing different about you," I argued. "You have been sleeping well, warm and well-fed, every night since I have left this kingdom. I have not," I said bitterly.

"Perhaps the changes are ones you cannot see," he said, giving me a grin.

"Maybe. I think not, though. You still act as stuck-up as you did when I left."

He grinned again. "And you still have an acid tongue, Marithyel."

I glared.

Thranduil took a step back, pretending to be scared. "And the looks you give me are still terrifying. No, things have not changed so much as I thought."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Very well, you win this time." It felt so good to be talking to someone again. The Elvish words were rolling off my tongue so easily, like water from a stone. I pushed my hair back from my face, already wanting to hack it off.

He stopped, looking at my neck with an odd expression.

"What?" I asked.

"Marithyel...you have a rather large scar down the side of your neck. Did you...know of it?"

I felt my face freeze. "Yes, I know of it," I said coldly. "It is a reminder of what I have experienced in my absence from the Greenwood."

"Marithyel," he said again, almost whispering now, "where have you been all these years? What happened to you? Why is my _Ada_ so intimidated by you?"

I picked up my pace, lifting my heavy skirts slightly, fighting memories that were rising dangerously close to the surface. "I am not ready."

Thranduil moved after me. "Marithyel, please tell me."

"I cannot." I wanted to run, to leave it all behind, but I couldn't. "I cannot tell," I said again, voice breaking. "I cannot."

"Marithyel," he repeated again, and this time his voice was soft, gentle. "Whatever happened, I will be your friend."

"You say that now," I answered, voice hoarse. "In time you will regret it. I must go."

I picked up my skirts and ran.

* * *

_===Flashback===_

_"Ah, my daughter," mother said to me, brushing my always-present hair out of my face, "I told you long ago that there would come a time when I wouldnot be here for you. Your father has different plans for you. I leave now, to go back home. I will see you again, someday." She kissed my forehead and rose._

_I stared after her, wondering when I would see her again._

_===End Flashback===_

"Mother," I whispered aloud, "what did you mean? I never knew you-not really. I spent my life away from you."

I lifted my head from the pillow, gasping slightly as my shoulder was pulled again. Standing, I moved toward the box Syanna had left me.

Opening it, I breathed in the old oak's scent, memories of this same box in my mother's grasp drifting up from the depths of my mind. Mother, standing above me and placing her necklaces over my neck; mother, kissing me goodnight; mother, crying softly as I was banished.

I felt along the bottom of the box, fingers scraping worn wood. She had told me once that if I ever needed to know more, then to look where she kept her treasures.

There! A small knob of wood. Biting my lip, I worked my hand over it, trying to grasp the small handle, but failing as my fingers slipped across the wood.

Taking a deep breath, I wrenched my other hand over the sides of the box, tears pricking my eyes as my shoulder throbbed painfully. Finally, with two hands grasping the tiny handle, I managed to pull it up.

At first, I saw nothing. But as I looked closer, I realized that there was something hidden in the small cavity. With my good hand, I lifted it out.

It was a book, the color exactly the same as the wood it rested on.

I opened it, the smell of old leather strong in my nose. In Elvish, it read:  
_Narinyaa, Daughter of Nithiaan._

Mother had a _diary_? I flipped pages, my eyes scanning over them for anything of interest.

Aha.

_Marithyel said her first words! I was quite surprised, as it is unusual for a child to speak so young. My husband says that she will be powerful, although I do not agree with him. I have never been able to keep track of what powers his people can have, though. Perhaps he is right._

I started flipping pages faster.

_Marithyel's sister is getting jealous of all the time my husband is spending with my little girl. I fear what may happen in the future._

_Marithyel is learning to fight! Today, my husband taught her various defensive tactics. He still insists that she is something special, something new. I still do not see it._

I let out a breath, sinking down into a chair. Mother wrote about me. I never knew that she had kept a diary.

She wrote about me! This is the diary of my life, from when I was first born, to when she left me! I could find out who she really was!

I started from the beginning, reading words that my mother wrote long ago, and letting the balm of love wash over me.


	6. Lost

Months passed. Oropher did not seek me out, and I avoided him. I did not see Thranduil, either, and had no desire to answer his endless questions about how I had gotten the scars on my neck.

Through it all, I made only one friend-Syanna. She was indeed a gentle soul, and for her I will be forever grateful.

Eventually, though, I was forced to make an appearance at an annual feast. I protested, pretended I was sick, argued some more, and finally gave in. My arm had healed almost fully, and Syanna said that many would admire me. I might even make some friends.

That night, I started stitching a dress that would surpass all others. I thought it my only chance to make new friends.

* * *

When I had finished, it was a beautiful dress, there was no denying it. A aquamarine blue, it was tight fitting until the waist and then flowed past my ankles in soft waves. The sleeves were set low on my shoulders, and were loose past my elbows. The neckline was stitched with silver and dark blue thread, as were the sleeves.

Syanna protested my decision to wear small white boots, but I insisted. Eventually, she settled for being in charge of my hair.

I had not bothered to cut it. It still fell to my ankles, and still was a terrible nuisance. Usually, I kept it in a single thick plait down my back.

Not so now.

My friend pulled and twisted and braided and brushed for what seemed like hours, and was finally pleased with the result.

My scalp was aching, and I resisted the urge to rub it.

Syanna held up a mirror.

"See? I told you that you would look beautiful!" she exclaimed.

I scowled, then winced as it pulled down my scalp and tightened my hair. "Yes, Syanna, but it is a bit to tight..." I reached up to touch the pile of hair on my head.

She slapped my hand away. "No touching!"

"That is not fair," I muttered. "You know I detest this sort of thing!"

Syanna smirked. "Yes," she said, "I do know."

I glared at her.

She grinned back. "Don't bother, Marithyel. I know you too well to be intimidated by those looks you give me. Now, look in the mirror!"

I did.

And gasped. I did not look remotely like I had before. My face seemed to glow slightly, and the hair piled around my face framed it perfectly.

I was _beautiful_.

I couldn't believe it. Somehow, Syanna had managed to take my unruly, annoying locks and turn them into a masterpiece.

An uncomfortable one, but still.

* * *

As I entered the feast, silence fell around me. It took me a bit of time to realize that it was because of me.

I had never considered myself beautiful. Not even close. But of course, the last time I had looked in the mirror before coming here was decades ago, and now, I looked completely different.

I blushed as heads turned my way, and moved quickly to a corner.

"Marithyel!" someone called, and as I turned my head, my hair swung around and hit someone. They were carrying a glass of wine, and it was nearly knocked from their hand.

Horrified, I backed away, murmuring apologies.

"Marithyel!"

I pushed through the crowd, ignoring whoever was calling me.

Finally, though, they caught up.

It was Thranduil, dressed in a handsome dark blue tunic, and holding a glass of wine. He was obviously getting a bit tipsy, as it shook slightly, liquid sloshing.

"What are you doing, Marithyel?" he asked, and did a double-take as I turned and looked at him. "You look...nice."

I gave a grim smile, hoping it didn't come out as a grimace. "Thank you." I was not going to compliment him on how he looked. His ego was already inflated enough.

"Would you like to dance?" Thranduil said, sweeping a bow. I was scared for the wine; it looked like it was on its way to the floor.

I looked around, considering. If I danced with him, I would be safe from the inquiring elleths that had been looking at me earlier, and no one would dare steal me away from the prince.

On the other hand, did I really want to dance with him? I had grown up with the prince, but now many years separated us. I was no longer sure if he cared for me only as a friend, and did not want to chance him thinking of me as something more.

Too late. He grasped my hand, giving the glass of wine to a passing servant, one hand on my waist as he pulled me to the dance floor.

I protested feebly, but he ignored me and settled into the music. Grumbling to myself, I tried not to step on his feet or loose my balance as he swept me along.

"Marithyel, I did not know you were coming tonight," Thranduil said over the music.

I did not answer him; I had just stepped on the hem of my gown and quickly raised my foot, trying to regain my balance.

But the prince saved me from falling.

Grasping my elbows, he pulled me straight, jerking out a few strands of hair as he did so. I winced.

"A close call," he said with a smile.

I ignored him, but then thought better of it. After all, he had helped me. "Yes," I said. "Thank you."

The smile widened. "You're welcome, Marithyel." Suddenly, he was leading me outside, away from the party and the loud music.

"What are you doing?" I asked nervously.

He looked at me, and his expression was serious. "I have been wanting to talk to you, Marithyel."

Oh great. "Why?"

"You have changed," Thranduil said. "You really have,_ mellon nin. _ You are beautiful. Did you know that, Marithyel?"

I swallowed hard. He was drunk, and was not thinking clearly. "What are you talking about, Thranduil?"

His fingers threaded through my hair, and my heart started beating faster. "You have gorgeous hair, Marithyel. So long and thick..." His fingers touched my cheek as they moved down the long strands.

I inhaled sharply. I did not want this. "What are you doing?" My voice came out slightly higher than I had wanted it too.

The prince did not answer me. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm around my waist and drew my head onto his shoulder. I struggled half-heartedly, not fully wishing to get away.

I could feel heat radiating off of him, and my heart danced faster. My mind was spinning.

"And your eyes," Thranduil said softly. "They entrance me. It is if you lay a spell on me, Marithyel. I can not understand it."

As he spoke, he turned me to face him, and realization struck me.

He came closer, closer, and I was paralyzed, unable to move. My mouth was dry, and all I knew was that I had to move, to make him understand that it would not work...

And then his lips were on mine, soft and warm. Mindlessly, I opened my mouth. I could not think. Thoughts were drifting through my brain, but I could not see them. I was lost, lost, lost...

He drew me even closer, and that movement awoke me to what was happening.

I gasped, pulling away from him.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, mind still reeling from the kiss, and ran.


End file.
